Scott Pilgrim and the Seven Deadly Sins
by PumpkinGrin
Summary: Scott's starting to have weird dreams lately; dreams of him and his friends as the personifications of the seven deadly sins... Random somewhat AU fanfic. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Envy

Scott Pilgrim and the Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter One: Envy-Knives Chau

**Hello, I'm PumpkinGrin. I'm such a huge fan of Scott Pilgrim, and I just recently watched Se7en, so I came up with the idea for this. It's just a little random fic about Scott having these strange dreams. Lemme know how it is.**

**Summary: After Scott and Ramona defeated Gideon at the Chaos Theatre, life seems to have finally slowed down for the young couple in love. But lately, Scott's been having weird dreams. Dreams about him and his friends as the personifications of the seven deadly sins…**

**Disclaimer: Scott Pilgrim belongs to Bryan Lee O'Malley. I own nothing, except for this fanfiction.**

**Please enjoy, and feel free to leave a word.**

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><p><em>Knives Chau, 17 years old, was still in love with Scott Pilgrim.<em>

_Even after he dumped her. _

_He was her first boyfriend. The first person in practically her entire life to introduce her to __**living**__. Life without him was unbearable without him; he was so fun and endearing in that sweet and goofy way. And sure, he made lots of mistakes, but that's what made Scott so fun and awesome. It's what made him human. It was what made Knives love him so much._

_Oh, God, did she love him._

_She didn't care about the age difference. People could gossip about it all they want. Knives wouldn't care, because she had Scott to ignore it with._

_Until Ramona came along. _

_Ramona._

_Ramona Flowers._

_Knives hated her. Oh, how she did. Everything had been peachy and fine and lovely before she came into the picture. Scott loved Knives, and Knives loved Scott. But then Ramona came along and snatched Scott away from Knives' arms. Ramona had stolen her beloved Scott. Ramona stole him. Ramona seduced him. Ramona corrupted him._

_It was all Ramona's fault. Everything. _

_Knives was miserable. So, so miserable. Lonely. Lost. Angry._

_And envious._

_Scott smiled and laughed a lot around Ramona. He kissed her a lot. He used to do that with Knives, sometimes. That was supposed to be Knives kissing and smiling and laughing with Scott. Not that fat hipster chick._

_Knives was angry. Knives was envious._

_Scott was out at band practice, at Stephen Stills' place. Sex Bob-Omb…what a lovely band, Knives thought. She loved them, like she loved Scott. Maybe that was why she loved them._

_But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Scott was at band practice…and Ramona was home alone._

_Knives snuck out that night. Told her parents that she was going to sleep over at Tamara's. Blatant lies._

_The Chinese-Canadian girl strode down the streets, enveloped in the shrouds of night. She had on her favorite striped scarf, a thick winter coat, and some simple exercise pants. Nothing fancy was needed for what she was going to do tonight._

_Everything was quiet outside, but there was a raging storm in Knives' mind. Words and plans and nasty little threats circulated through her brain, repeating over and over in an endless mantra. Tonight was the night. Tonight was the night. Tonight was her night._

_Finally, she arrived at her destination. She stood in front of the apartment, gazing up at it longingly. Scott had apparently slept in here, more than once. All of those times were spent with that swine. The very thought of them sharing a bed made her blood boil. She gripped her sai tightly as she walked up to the door._

_Anticipating the moment yet to come, Knives rang the doorbell. She licked her lips in perverse glee. She was going to do this. She was going to win._

_The doorknob started to turn, and the door opened. Sure enough, there stood Ramona the pig, with her outlandish blue hair and wide brown eyes. The sight of her made Knives sick to her stomach. She wanted to vomit right then and there, but she had something much worse in store for Ramona._

"_Knives?" Ramona queried. Knives noticed that she was wearing a very tight T-shirt and shorts. Slut._

"_Hey, Ramona." Knives greeted back before she lunged forward. _

_On instinct, Ramona ducked backwards, her fat little stomach curving inward to dodge Knives' blade. But Knives quickly reacted and sliced forward with her other sai. The blade connected with Ramona's pale skin, leaving a thin bleeding cut._

"_Whoa, hey! What the hell are you doing?" Ramona gasped, stumbling backwards. Her back hit the stair railing. "I thought we were done with this!"_

"_Oh no, Ramona," Knives began, her voice sickly sweet as she attempted to stab the older woman once again. "I'm not done until you are."_

_Ramona lurched out of the way before the sai could make contact. She slammed into the wall, tumbling over the first few stairs. "Knives, calm down, cut it out!" She cried out exasperatedly. "This is over. Scott chose what he did, and you're just going to have to deal with it and move on already!"_

_Knives snapped._

"_How __**dare**__ you!" She spat as she snap kicked Ramona in the face. She flew backwards onto the first landing, groaning in pain and rubbing her chin. "__**How dare you!**__"_

_Before Ramona could speak, Knives struck her across the face with her bare fist."You stole the only person in the world that meant anything to me! He was my first—my first everything! And you take him away, snatch him up as if you owned him. He didn't choose you; you chose him!"_

"_Knives, I—" Ramona was interrupted with another strike to the jaw._

"_No, shut up! __**Shut up**__!" Knives screamed, anger pouring out of her. "You're such a slut! You took him away as if he were nothing special, as if he were just some sort of—some sort of toy! You don't really love him! You wouldn't know what love is!"_

_At this point, Knives sank to her knees. Her pretty Asian features were distorted in anguish as she bent forward and let out a dry sob. Her hands balled up into fists at her sides, her knuckles white._

_Ramona listened to the teenager crying, and suddenly felt very uneasy. Here was a girl who just tried to kill her, and now she was suffering some emotional breakdown. Ramona was a stranger to these kinds of things, but nonetheless she leaned forward. Her hand was outstretched, trying to offer Knives some sort of comfort; she understood that she was just a teen, and that she was still confused. Knives probably needed to have some time to think things through._

_As soon as Ramona's hand touched Knives' back, Knives straightened up and tried to land a hit to Ramona's face. However, Ramona easily caught it, somehow expecting it. Of course, Knives wouldn't want to accept comfort from the person she hated the most. But at least it was worth a try, she sighed mentally._

"_Hey, hey," Ramona said quietly. She took noticed of Knives' tear-stained cheeks, her furrowed brow, and her glittery almond-shaped eyes. "It's…uh…it's gonna be okay. Just…why don't you go home and take some time to—"_

_But Ramona never finished her sentence._

_She froze, a dreadful icy feeling flooding over her. Her skin paled to a ghostly white as she looked down to see one of Knives' sai embedded in her stomach._

_Ramona gazed up at Knives to see her smiling, mocking her. That was when Ramona lost sense of the world, and fell back._

_Knives clambered up to a stand as Ramona breathed her very last. Her body convulsed slightly, shuddering with waves of agony. Until, finally, she gave one last shiver and went still._

_Knives bent down next to Ramona's body to pull out her sai, finding herself mesmerized by the sight of the American's crimson blood staining her T-shirt. It was darkening quickly and spreading over her stomach. _

_It was beautiful._

_The 17 year old stood back up and gave Ramona one last glance before walking out of the house. She closed the door behind her softly, as if not to awake the woman lying dead on the staircase behind her. _

_All at once, Knives felt free. Her anger disappeared, and replaced itself with hope and courage. Now that Ramona was gone, she had Scott all to herself._

_Comforted by this thought, Knives flopped onto the front yard and into the fresh snow, making a snow angel as she giggled gently to herself._

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><p>"…tt. Scott…Scott!"<p>

Scott awoke, startled and shocked. He flung upward into a sitting position in Ramona's bed, searching the room wildly for any Chinese-Canadian teenage girls making snow angels. Fortunately, the only thing seen was Ramona and her room.

"Jesus, Scott, did you have a bad dream or something?" Ramona asked, sitting on the foot of the bed. Her face expressed slight concern and puzzlement. "It took me forever to wake you up. Well, it usually always does, but this time it was different. You were mumbling in your sleep or something. I heard you say Knives."

Scott's eyes flew open. "Knives?" He repeated sharply. "Is she here? Where?"

Ramona raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no. Like I said, you were mentioning her in your sleep." She clarified. "What were you dreaming about?"

"You didn't see for yourself?"

"Oh, come on, Scott. I don't evade what little privacy you have _all_ the time."

Scott looked downward, idly scratching his messy brown hair. "Oh. Well…it was about Knives."

His girlfriend rolled her eyes. "Alright, that I figured. What else?"

"Um…" Scott looked around uneasily, unsure of what she should and shouldn't say. "And…you were in it, too."

"…Oh God, don't tell me this wasn't one of your lame lesbian fantasy dreams."

Scott jumped up. "What? No, no, it's nothing like that!" He denied wildly, waving his hands about wildly. "You know I dream about that stuff?"

Ramona leaned to her side on the bed, supporting herself on her left arm. "You're Scott Pilgrim, Scott. You're one of the biggest lesbian fanboys around." She pointed out.

Scott looked away a little guiltily. "Am not…kinda…"

"Whatever. Look, just…what did you dream about? Huh? What was your dream about?"

A sinking feeling coursed down the slacker's spine. "Uh…will you promise that you won't get offended if I tell you?" He asked, readjusting his position on the bed.

"I can't guarantee anything, but shoot."

Scott exhaled. "Okay. Basically, this was way back when, like, in Volume 2 to 3, when Knives was still 17, and was still jealous of you. Because you were dating me, right? So, basically, she went absolutely freaking crazy and went to your house and killed you." He stated.

Both were silent for a few moments. Only the occasional passing car could be heard from outside. The couple stared at each other.

"Okay, Scott?" Ramona said. "You have some problems. Would you like to go see a psychiatrist?"

Scott quickly shook his head. "No, no! I'm not crazy! It's just the dream that was. I'm perfectly mentally fine, I don't need a physicist—"

"Psychiatrist."

"Psychiatrist, or whatever, I don't need one of those," Scott insisted. He sat upright and leaned forward towards Ramona. "Look, you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. I just had some crazy dream, that's all."

The American delivery girl wasn't buying it; she stared at him with skepticism. "Really, Ramona," Scott said, grasping her hand with his. "I'm alright."

Ramona was quiet with contemplation. She frowned as she examined her boyfriend's face, analyzing his expression and guessing at his thoughts. Finally, she spoke. "Alright, fine. I guess you _are_ okay." She decided. "I won't take you to a psychiatrist. Sorry for worrying about you," She added mockingly.

Scott smiled. "It's alright. Apology accepted," He murmured as he leaned in for a kiss. Ramona accepted his offer and kissed him back with a smile on her lips.

But Scott couldn't fight off the feeling that his dream of Knives wasn't going to be the last one.

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><p><strong>So how was it? I know Knives is pretty OOC, but considering it was Scott dreaming, and that she was the personification of Envy, I think I'm somewhat kind of justified. Oh well, just leave a review, if you would be so kind. Even some constructive criticism would be welcome, since I know this story might need some of it. Thanks for reading.<strong>

**Up next will be Wallace as Gluttony.**


	2. Gluttony

Scott Pilgrim and the Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter Two: Gluttony - Wallace Wells

**Sup, it's PumpkinGrin. Here's the second installment of SPatSDS. I know it seems a little strange to have Wallace representing Gluttony, but his preference for alcohol led me to do this. It also has a twist of Envy and/or Lust in it, but is not related to Knives. It's…oh, just read it. Enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Scott Pilgrim belongs to Bryan Lee O'Malley. I only own this fanfiction.**

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><p><em>Wallace didn't want to be more blunt than he was known to be, but he had to admit that he was glad Scott was out of the house tonight. Well, apartment, if you want to get technical.<em>

_Tonight was the night that Wallace has been anticipating for a week. He and Other Scott had arranged to have a little get-together at the local gay bar, in celebration of Other Scott's birthday. It had been Wallace's idea, and had reassured Other Scott that he was going to pay for everything. After all, when it's your birthday, you want to be the one to get drunk for free, right?_

_Wallace waited politely in the small apartment, watching as Scott was trying to find his other shoe. Silly Scott, always losing everything. Why did he have to be so disorganized? Still, it amused Wallace and gave him something to do as he waited._

_Finally, Scott left. Said something about a party he was going to with Ramona. How ironic, the 25-year-old thought. _

_As soon as Scott disappeared down the corner, Wallace pulled on his jacket, grabbed his wallet, and took his keys before exiting the apartment. To be sure, he locked the door. He loved giving Scott hell. _

_He met up with Other Scott at Pizza Pizza, their planned rendezvous point. As soon as they met up, they left and turned down the alley into a rather shady street. Although, Wallace knew that you should never judge a book by its cover; this street hosted some of Wallace's favorite bars. _

_Wallace led Other Scott to their destination, making small talk about their days. But soon the small talk died away as they reached the bar. Loud thumping music could be heard already, and they hadn't even entered yet._

"_Alright, ready to have the time of your life, buddy?" Wallace grinned at Other Scott. _

"_You bet, let's go get hammered!" Other Scott cheered, and they walked in._

_It took no time for Wallace to feel at home. He knew a lot of the patrons here, and knew most of them by name. He knew where the good spots were to either sit for a quite drink, or to have fun and party. Of course, they were looking for a spot for the latter._

"_Hold on, wait here. I'll go get us something to drink," Wallace said to Other Scott, gesturing to a circular table. Other Scott nodded and sat down as Wallace made his way to the bar counter. _

"_Oh, if it ain't Wallace Wells," The bartender, a nice guy named Freddy, greeted. He was in the middle of drying a few glasses for use. "Our most infamous guest."_

_Wallace winked. "Don't you know it. Anyways, it's Scott's birthday today-"_

"_Oh, I heard!"_

"_Mhmm. We plan on celebrating here tonight. Wanna hook us up?"_

_Freddy gave Wallace a cheeky grin. "You bet! So, what'll it be tonight? The usual?"_

_Wallace leaned on the smooth marble counter, his face scrunched up in contemplation. "Hmm…nah. We want something festive tonight. Got any ideas?" He suggested._

_Freddy frowned in thought. "Let's see…" He murmured before smiling slyly at Wallace. "I think I have just the thing. Wait here, I'll go see if we have any more." With that, he ducked into a nearby storage closet. _

_Wallace remained seated at the bar, admiring the flashy strobe lights that flickered about and all of the guys. A lot of cute ones, he noted. Maybe he could spare a drink or two with them during his stay? Maybe if he was lucky –and Wallace was __**always**__ lucky– he would be able to snag one home with him. Just because it was Other Scott's birthday didn't mean Wallace couldn't have a little fun himself. He was paying for this, after all._

_Just as he was mentally surveying the attractiveness of a couple of guys a few feet away from him, he felt a presence appear next to him. He turned around to see a rather impish young man with short dirty blonde hair and sleepy eyes. Bedroom eyes._

"_Well, hello there," Wallace leaned a bit on the counter, smiling at the guy. "Now, who might you be?"_

_The blonde gave Wallace a similar grin, although Wallace could've sworn he detected a bit of bitterness. "Don't you remember, Wallace?" He replied, tipping his head ever so slightly to the left. "It's me, Ray."_

_Wallace quirked a brow; he was scouring every bit of his memory for any remembrance of Ray. Then suddenly, he started remembering a time at a different bar, talking to a mischievous-looking blonde, flirting with him, kissing him, taking him home…_

"_Oh, Ray!" Wallace nodded, satisfied at his mental victory. "I remember! How've you been? How's life doing for you?"_

_Ray gave a small shrug, shifting in his seat to gaze around at the expanse of the bar. "Oh, everything's going fine, just dandy. Y'know, ever since you kicked me out."_

_Wallace inwardly groaned. "Oh, don't be like that. You know I didn't mean it. It was for my roommate's sake. I didn't want you to leave."_

_Ray was quiet for a bit, before turning back to the dark-haired man and smirking. "Hm. Well, maybe I'll let it slide if I treat you to a drink," he proposed, with a cheeky smile to boot._

_Well…maybe Wallace could spare a couple of bucks on a round of shots._

"_Hmm…alright, you've got yourself a deal."_

_Freddy returned with a special bottle of scotch for Wallace and Other Scott, but Wallace didn't immediately take it to Other Scott. Instead he left it by his side and ordered five shots for both of them._

"_Here's to apologies and leaving the past where it is," The raven-haired man said softly. He held up one of his shots of liquor, holding it gingerly yet firmly._

"_Hear, hear!" Ray laughed, a musical chuckle that Wallace enjoyed. Their glasses chinked together before meeting their owner's lips._

_An indefinite amount of time passed; Wallace honestly couldn't tell how long he had been sitting at the bar. It felt like he had been sitting here for years and years, with Ray and without Other Scott. He thought he tried to pry him away from the bar a couple of times, but he must have shooed him away in his drunken stupor. Wallace made a mental note to apologize later; he was going to have to make it up to him somehow._

_But now, it was his and Ray's moment. Wallace liked his smile, which showed gleaming flawless teeth. His blond hair was cut in a rather cute way, and looked shorter than what it had been last time when they slept together. Or maybe it was always that short; the scotch wasn't helping Wallace remember. Nonetheless, it was a cute hairstyle. He wanted to run his hands through it._

"_Freddy!" He called out sluggishly, tipping to his right slightly. " 'Nother!"_

_Freddy looked up from pouring a class of champagne and frowned uneasily. "Oh, I dunno, Wallace. You look like you've had enough to drink tonight."_

"_Ya kiddin' me? I'm W-Wallace mother-effin' Wells! I'm the not drunkest-drunk guy on the entire planet!" Wallace boasted. Ray, who wasn't as drunk as Wallace, chuckled a bit._

_The bartender shook his head as he handed his customer the glass of champagne. "Alright, whatever you say," he muttered as he went to fill up the duo's shots. The majority of the empty glasses were Wallace's, to both Freddy and Wallace's chagrin. _

_The drunken man looked at Ray and his three full shots. " 'Ey, why aren't you drinkin,' huh?" he asked, a bit of a hurt edge to his hazy voice. "I bough' those for you, buddy."_

_Ray grimaced as he looked at his glasses. "I don't really care for this alcohol," the blonde confessed. "It's a bit too strong for my tastes."_

_Wallace gazed sleepily at Ray in newfound concern. "Oh, ohhhh. Oh, okay. D-do you wann' 'nother one? Diff'rent one?" His speech was steadily slurring together._

_Ray began to twirl the glass on the bar counter, his palm arched over it and his fingers spinning it around. "Nah, I've got work tomorrow. But…" he glanced at Wallace with a small smile, holding the glass out to him. "You can have it."_

_Wallace grinned. "Aw, 'ow sweet," he said before placing a small drunken kiss on Ray's lips. Surprisingly, Ray did not kiss back, but instead recoiled a little bit. Wallace was too drunk to notice, and took the glass away from Ray. He uttered a small "Thanks," before downing it in one gulp._

"_Wallace?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_I'm sorry, I've gotta confess."_

"_Well…I'm no priest, but you're more than welcome."_

_Ray spoke as Freddy came back with filled shot glasses. "I'm afraid I've deceived you."_

_A shot of alcohol washed down Wallace's throat. " 'Ow so?"_

"_I haven't forgiven you."_

_Wallace paused, looking up at Ray. He looked strangely somber, with a cold calculating look in his eyes. "Wha? Whaddya mean?" he asked, blinking through his haze. "I-I…I bought these for you. As an apology, right?"_

_Ray looked away, frowning. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't make up for what you did."_

_Wallace groaned, sounding like a strangled cat while doing so. "Awwwh, that's in the past, right? I though' we established that, din't we?" He complained, emptying another glass. His brain was getting fuzzier and fuzzier; he started feeling a bit bloated, but his senses were too muted to register it. More alcohol…he wanted more._

_Ray glanced at his watch, then up at Wallace. "We did. And I have established that I still haven't forgiven you."_

_Wallace opened his mouth, but no words came out. He choked on that air that was escaping him, his eyes bulging in their sockets. He lost the feeling in his arms and legs, so he didn't feel himself falling to the floor. People gaped, but dismissed him as some sorry guy who had a little too much tonight. _

_His lungs were on fire, malfunctioning. His brain disconnected itself from his body, leaving him on the floor flopping about like a fish. Whatever words he tried to speak tore through his throat like razor blades, causing his throat to writhe in agony._

_Before Wallace's eyesight blurred out, he looked up at Ray, who was glancing down at him with an expression he could not describe. _

_And then he was gone._

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><p>Scott gasped, a sharp intake of breath surging in through his nose and mouth. His eyes flew open as he swung up to a sitting position. His chest rose and fell rapidly, struggling to gather in every ounce of air he could. His throat was being crushed, constricted, he was dying—<p>

"Scott?"

He snapped out of his panic to look at Ramona, who was standing in the doorway to her bathroom. She had just finished dyeing her hair, replacing the blue with a dark crimson. A look of suspicion and concern was gleaming in her eyes.

Scott panted as he regained control of his breathing, staring at Ramona incredulously whilst doing so. He had broken out in a cold sweat, his brown hair matted to his forehead. He opened his mouth and formed invisible words.

"Scott?" Ramona repeated, approaching him slowly. "What's wrong? Did you dream about Knives again?"

Scott shook his head, staring blankly into space. He could still recall that horrible choking sensation, imagining his throat convulsing and shriveling up.

His girlfriend sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steal his gaze from an invisible spot on the wall. "Scott, what is it? C'mon, just tell me. I'll listen."

Scott swallowed and felt his throat throb in memory of the dream. "Wall…Wallace… It was Wallace." He wheezed, unconsciously massaging his throat. He looked downward at the memory of Wallace convulsing.

Ramona frowned, entirely consumed by concern for her boyfriend. "Do you wanna talk about it?" She asked softly; she was a bit surprised of the tenderness in her voice, but she ignored it.

Scott wanted to say no, but he found himself speaking anyway. "Wallace and Other Scott…they were at a bar. A gay bar, or something. It was…it was Other Scott's birthday, they were celebrating. Then…"

"Then…?"

"Then, um…Wallace met this guy, Ray. He had slept with him once, but he got kicked out or something. I think it was because of me." Scott said, guilt tinged in his voice.

Ramona had to roll her eyes.

Scott continued. "So, they were drinking together, y'know? Like, old buddies and stuff. But then Wallace got really drunk. I mean, like, _really_ drunk. He just kept drinking and drinking," he recalled, twirling his hand in a circling motion. "And then he wanted Ray's drinks, and Ray gave it to him…"

He left it there. Ramona quirked a brow at his sudden silence, leaning over to try and get a looks at his downcast face. She was a bit surprised to see the sheer horror on his countenance.

"It was…the one that Ray gave to Wallace was poisoned. It killed him. And-and I felt it too! Like, as if I were Wallace, I was feeling everything he felt. And when the poison started kicking in, I—"

"Okay, Scott, it's going to be alright, okay?" Ramona interjected. "It was just a dream. That's all it was. There's no reason to get so worked up about it. It's not real." She grabbed Scott's hand and gripped it firmly. "Just calm down, Scott. It's alright, Wallace is fine."

Scott gulped. "But…but what if it happened?" He returned Ramona's gesture and held her hand tightly. "What if Wallace DID get hurt? What if I'm a psychic now, and I can predict events to come? Like that one guy on Heroes, kinda."

"Scott."

"Yeah?"

"Get your head out of your ass." Ramona deadpanned, all signs of worry fleeing from her voice. "Why the hell would you be psychic? I think I would've known by now."

Scott considered. "Well…yeah, but still! What if Wallace _is_ hurt, or dead?"

The American rolled her eyes once more and produced her phone from the bedside drawer. She flipped it open and promptly sent Wallace a text message.

"Who're you texting?" Scott asked meekly, sitting up straighter as he tried to get a peek at Ramona's cell phone.

"Wallace." Was her simple reply.

"Oh," Scott answered. "Well…what if he's too busy being dead to get to his phone—"

"Here." Ramona shoved the phone into Scott's face, the display screen facing him. "Will this shut you up?"

**From: Wallace Wells**

**Received at 11:25 am, March 23**

**heeeeyy! 3 im a little tispy right now, we just got back from the bar. do u have the keys?...oh wait, we dont live there anymore. oh well, just wanted to say hi! hit me up when you can, ok?**

"Well…he replies fast, doesn't he?" Scott quipped quietly.

Crossing her arms in victory, Ramona smirked. "See? He's perfectly fine, just drunk. Stop going by what you see in your dreams and focus on what you have in reality."

Scott blinked. "You mean, like you?"

Ramona paused before a small smile crept upon her lips. "Yeah, like me." She said before the two shared a sweet kiss.

After Ramona left for work, Scott sat at the kitchen table alone, absently patting Gideon the cat. Instead of spending his day off playing video games like he had planned, he simply sat there.

The dreams were starting to piece something together in his mind. His gears, albeit very rusty, were spinning, trying to connect the two dreams. They had to be related somehow, but Scott couldn't figure out how and why.

He would just have to wait for the next to come.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two! Yeah, Wallace could've been Lust, but I gave him Gluttony because I'm saving Lust for someone else. Next up is Kim as Wrath (B.V. The Epic got this right! Kudos to you!). I apologize if this chapter isn't good. I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism.<strong>

**Leave a word, or some sign that you've stopped by! Laters!**

**Grin.**


	3. Reprieve

Scott Pilgrim and the Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter 3: A Brief Reprieve for Our Troubled Hero

**Heya! This chapter is not going to be Kim's Wrath dream, so sorry for the false advertising. But BraveEagle brought it to my attention that I should include interludes here and there to represent the emotional turmoil that Scott is undergoing at the moment. Kudos to you, BraveEagle, and to all of my other lovely reviewers and readers! Enjoy!**

**[WARNING: ONCOMING SHAMELESS PLUG-IN ADVERTISEMENT IN 3, 2, 1…] Oh, and if you are interested, I'm writing a Hunger Games fic where you can submit your OCs to be used in the story. Check it out if you're a Hunger Games fan!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Scott Pilgrim franchise; it belongs to Bryan Lee O'Malley.**

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><p>"Scott, what do you think you're doing?"<p>

Scott abruptly tore his eyes away from the TV screen to look up at Ramona, who stood in the doorway. Her arms were crossed impatiently. Definitely not a sign that she was in a good mood.

"Uhh, uh-uhm, hi, Ramona!" Scott stammered, immediately dropping the Nintendo 64 controller and shooing away the various Coke Zero cans under the couch that Ramona had recently bought. "Wh-what you—what're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

The American rolled her eyes. "I just got off. I always get off at 5, remember?" She glanced at Scott's disheveled look. "Did you go to work looking like that?"

Scott looked away guiltily. "I had a day off today."

"You did? Since when, I don't recall you telling me that you did."

"…I called in sick this morning."

A long drawn-out groan escaped Ramona as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Scott, how many times have you called in sick in the past month? They're going to find it inexcusable sooner or later," she noted as she pushed herself away from the doorframe to the living room.

Scott hurriedly rushed up and approached Ramona. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's just that something important came up at a short notice, and—"

"Oh yeah? What was so important that you had to skip your job for, hm?"

Scott suddenly found himself unable to meet Ramona's eyes. "Um…Wallace came by today. With his Nintendo 64."

**Flashback Time!**

**Scott jumped up from the couch as the doorbell rang. He switched off the TV and dashed to the door, trying not to trip in his socks.**

"**Who is i—Oh. Hi, Wallace."**

**Wallace frowned slightly, pretending to take offense to Scott's blunt greeting. "You're obviously not happy to see me." He observed, shifting the weight of the large paper bag he was holding.**

**Believe it or not, Scott was actually very happy to see Wallace, which was something he wasn't going to outwardly admit. At least he now knew for certain that he was alive.**

"**Eh. I'm just…busy with other stuff, I guess," Scott confessed. That is, if channel-surfing was considered busy.**

**His gay friend raised his brow. "You…**_**busy?**_**" He made a face as if he wanted to question it even further, but he apparently decided against it and shook his head. "Okay, nevermind. I'll just drop this off later, then, if you're **_**busy**_**—"**

**This was when Scott fully took notice of the paper bag. "No, wait, hold on!" He exclaimed, grabbing Wallace's shoulder to prevent him from turning away. He peered suspiciously at the bag. "What's that? What're you giving me?"**

**Wallace smirked at Scott's sudden interest and set the bag down on the doorstep. "Oh, nothing, just my old '64, and accompanying games. I was going to give them to you, since Mobile's getting me a new one, but you said you were bu—"**

"**I'm not busy, I'm just watching TV like the lazy bum I am, alright?" Scott admitted rather loudly, his gaze never wavering from the console. "Now will you let me have it?"**

**Wallace tried to suppress a laugh at his ex-roomate's predictable behavior. "Sure. Just lemme come in so I can hook it up. I know you'll burn the place down if you try to do it."**

**Scott, still staring fervently at the game, shrugged. "Yeah, okay. Come on in."**

**Once Wallace stepped in, a wide smile broke out across Scott's face; he was amazed that he wasn't freaking out over the fact that Wallace's – now effectively his – '64 was within the confines of his home.**

"**So, what's been going on with you, guy?" Wallace asked cordially as he knelt down and settled the bag down on the floor. He dragged out the console from the bag and scooted over to the wall behind the TV.**

**Scott knelt beside him, waiting as patiently as he possibly could. "Hm…nothing much." He answered, before quickly reconsidering. Should he tell Wallace about his dreams? At least, the one that concerned Wallace himself?**

"**Hey, Wallace?"**

"**Hm?"**

"**I had a dream."**

**Wallace paused to look back at his friend with an bemused expression. "Um…okay, something's up. You're quoting Martin Luther King Jr."**

"**What? Who? Wh—no, no, not like… I wasn't quoting him. I mean, I really did have a dream."**

"**Oh." Reassured, Wallace turned back to the mess of wires behind the TV stand, looking for a free outlet. "Continue, then."**

"**So, uh, okay. Uhm, so…I had…it was about you."**

"**But not in that sort of way!" Scott added hastily when he saw the suggestive look that he received. "I mean, something happened to you. And Other Scott."**

"**Mhm. Do tell." Wallace uttered, shifting some wires around carefully. **

**Scott swallowed, twiddling his thumbs together. "And, uh…you were at a bar, for Other Scott's birthday—"**

"**But Other Scott's birthday isn't until three months."**

"**Will you just let me speak?" Scott scowled at Wallace, who was chuckling quietly to himself. "Anyways, you were at a bar, celebrating his birthday, and you met up with one of your one-night-stands. And you were drinking, trying to make your one-night-stand forgive you for kicking him out and stuff, because of me. You kept on drinking. A lot. Like, to the point that Ripley's wouldn't even believe it."**

**Wallace paused slightly to listen to Scott's story. "And the one-night-stand guy didn't really forgive you, and poisoned one of your drinks, and then you died."**

**There was an uncomfortable silence between the two.**

"**I **_**died?**_**" Wallace repeated incredulously.**

**Scott nodded somewhat meekly.**

"…_**I died?**_**"**

"**Yes, alright? You died! You were poisoned, and you were killed!"**

**Wallace abandoned his efforts for a moment to turn to Scott with a confused expression. "And you dreamt of me dying…because?"**

**Scott scrunched his eyebrows together, shrugging. "I dunno! I can't control my dreams, they're part of… of my…what was it called?"**

"**Subconscious…?"**

"**Yeah, my subconscious!" Scott snapped his fingers and pointed at Wallace. "I couldn't control what happened to you, so I'm not entirely responsible for it!"**

**Wallace shifted so that he was sitting with his legs crossed, as opposed to sitting on his knees. "But, technically, your dreams are affected by influences of your daily life. So something you encountered caused you to dream about me getting killed." He tilted his head a few degrees. "What exactly was it, I wonder…?"**

**Scott fell back on his butt, propping himself up on his hands. "Yeah, me too."**

**Another period of silence arrived, at least until Wallace broke it shortly after.**

"**Anyways, I can't find any free outlets, so you're going to have to hook it up yourself," He finally said before standing up and brushing his hands gently. "Sorry, buddy."**

**Scott shook his head. "It's cool, I can do it," He assured. "I'll just call Dominique today, tell her I'm sick."**

**Wallace scoffed as he headed for the door. "Isn't this your…what, your eighth time calling in sick this month?" He asked, a smile played upon his lips as he zipped up his jacket.**

"**They'll be fine without me. It's not like business is booming over there or anything, so it's good," Scott said nonchalantly as he opened the door for his friend. **

**Wallace grinned coyly, stepping outside and greeting the cool fall breeze. "Whatever. If you get in trouble, don't come crying to me and telling me that I'm right. Though it would be cool to see you do that."**

"**Goodbye, Wallace!" Scott sang as he slammed the door shut and locked it. He rolled his eyes as he heard Wallace continue to laugh before his voice died away.**

**For some reason, he was feeling rather somber now, having relayed the events of his dream to Wallace. To Scott's surprise, he took it rather well, unlike himself. Obviously, Wallace thought of it as nothing more than a dream – something that couldn't be true. It was just fake, and he understood that.**

**Not Scott, however. He felt chills run down his spine as he recalled how utterly real it felt to him. Both times he had dreamt, about Knives and Wallace, had felt horrifyingly real to him. It was like he could feel everything they felt – the pain, the anger, the drunken haze, the sadistic glee. It scared him more than Scott liked. Usually, nightmares only freaked him out, until he forgot all about it and continued along on his merry way. But these two dreams truly scared him. He knew that he shouldn't let them affect him like that, but the sense of everlasting dread had resurfaced once more.**

**Trying to shake it away, Scott instead faced the '64, setting his jaw in determination. "Alright, since today's a day off, let's get this baby hooked up," he muttered.**

* * *

><p>Ramona blinked from her seat on the sofa, disbelief painted across her attractive features. Her eyes were narrowed at Scott, who looked somewhat uneasy as his gaze shifted from Ramona to Ocarina of Time.<p>

"Scott…what is wrong with you?"

"I couldn't help it! Once I saw Ocarina of Time, I knew I had to stay home."

"No, not that!" Ramona waved her hand dismissively. "No, I meant with the whole dream thing."

"Oh," was Scott's small reply, his enthusiasm dying considerably. "I shouldn't have told Wallace, huh?"

Ramona's mouth quirked downwards as she crossed her right leg over her left knee. "Well, not exactly. There's nothing holding you back from telling him about it," she admitted. "it's just that…I'm worried for you. Really, I am."

Scott swallowed, though he tried to not let his facial expression give away his nervousness. "Why? You don't have to be, I'm perfectly fine. Nothing wrong with me whatsoever."

Ramona gazed at Scott, worry and doubt laced in her brown eyes. "Then why did you bring it up with Wallace? If it was really nothing, you wouldn't have brought it up, Scott. If this is really something that's bothering you, then—"

"Ramona, Ramona!" Scott interjected, shaking his head and balling up his fists. "I'm alright! I just brought it up for conversational purposes or whatever. I'm not disturbed or anything like that, I swear!"

Ramona widened her eyes in surprise, having been caught a bit off-guard with his outburst. Her expression seemed to say, "Okay, dude, chill out, it's nothing serious."

Scott noticed and sighed, hanging his head in sudden exhaustion and defeat. His shoulders noticeably sagged. "Sorry," he murmured.

Ramona didn't answer with an acceptance of his apology, but instead stood up. "Get ready, we're going to another one of Julie's parties." She said solemnly as she turned on her heel and went to their bedroom to change.

Scott nodded, feeling something dark blossom inside of him.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I somewhat lied. It's not a true reprieve, unless you count him getting the '64. No, things will not be easy for Scott and co. in this story, I assure you. Stick around for the next chapter, which is the actual KimWrath dream. Hoped you liked it, and please drop by a sign that you clicked on this story. Thanks!**

**Grin.**


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